Read Online Samantha James by My Lord Conqueror - Free Book Online
Authors: My Lord Conqueror
Ads: Link
dragged upon her heart. She summoned a faint smile and arose. “Thank you, Simon.” She took the tray from him, thinking that the boy wouldindeed grow to be a fine, handsome young man, as handsome as his uncle…The thought brought her up short. Merrick…handsome? Sweet heaven, but her mind turned in the strangest ways!
She scarcely tasted the meal he’d brought, yet she forced herself to eat. She did not dally, but made her way down the stairs and into the smoky kitchens. She had scarcely entered when Sybil spotted her. Her sister wasted no time presenting herself in front of Alana.
She heaved her arms on her hips and fixed her with a glare. “There you are!” she snapped. “Do you know the whole of the keep knows what you did today? No doubt they will soon call me the devil’s daughter as well, and all because you are my half-sister! But ’tis well known ’twas your mother who gave you the devil’s curse.”
Devil’s daughter…the devil’s curse . Alana’s even temper began to fray. “Say what you will about me, Sybil,” she said with flashing eyes. “As for my mother, you know as well as I she possessed the kindest soul in the village. So say no more about her.”
Sybil sniffed indignantly. “Or what? What will you do, Alana? Turn me into a goat as well?”
Sister, you need no help on that score , Alana decided crossly, then was immediately ashamed of her pettiness. ’Twas not at all like her to be spiteful. But just as she would have sought to ease the mood wrought by the exchange, Sybil snatched up a tray and spun around.
A needle of hurt sliced deep. Oh, Alana told herself she shouldn’t allow her sister’s deliberate cruelty to bother her so. Countless times she had seen Rowena treat her mother with the very same callousness. And so it was that she was not surprised when Sybil pointedly ignored her throughout the evening.
Again Alana made innumerable trips between the kitchens and the hall, bearing great platters of food and pitchers of ale. The crowd was only slightly less boisterous than the previous eve. More than once she found herself the object of whispers and guarded glances. At least now, no one dared pinch her breasts and grasp at her buttocks as they had done last eve.
But then there was Merrick. Sybil served him, thank the Lord. Yet time and again, she felt his piercing regard. His gaze drilled into her back like the points of a hundred tiny daggers. His promise rang in her ears. Make no mistake, Saxon, I will deal with you later . The very thought made her belly tighten in dread. She’d heard tales of the Normans and their vicious nature. Indeed, she’d seen it firsthand in the village.
At the very least, he would have her thrashed. Or perhaps he would do it himself. He might even cut out her tongue…She dared not think of what form his punishment might take.
But whatever it was, she was certain he wouldn’t allow her to go unscathed, as he had last night.
It was very late when a scraggly line of Saxons entered the hall. Alana’s heart went out to them, for she sensed their weariness both in body and spirit. But there was one in particular…His clothing was tattered and blood-spattered. Chains fettered his feet and hands. Awareness sharpened her vision.
The man was Radburn, stoutest and bravest of her father’s men-at-arms. Of noble upbringing, his father was an earl in the south of England.
Relief flooded her, for it had saddened her greatly to think that he, too, had been killed by the Normans. A poignant memory sent her spinning back in time, for she had grown to womanhood with girlish dreams of a husband and babies…Aye, dreams of this very man had filled her mind—and her heart.
He was so tall. So strong. So brave. Deep within her, Alana had known how very foolish were such fanciful notions. Yet still she had worshiped Radburn from afar. He was ever kind and ever considerate in those brief moments when they chanced to meet. And once— once —she had caught
She scarcely tasted the meal he’d brought, yet she forced herself to eat. She did not dally, but made her way down the stairs and into the smoky kitchens. She had scarcely entered when Sybil spotted her. Her sister wasted no time presenting herself in front of Alana.
She heaved her arms on her hips and fixed her with a glare. “There you are!” she snapped. “Do you know the whole of the keep knows what you did today? No doubt they will soon call me the devil’s daughter as well, and all because you are my half-sister! But ’tis well known ’twas your mother who gave you the devil’s curse.”
Devil’s daughter…the devil’s curse . Alana’s even temper began to fray. “Say what you will about me, Sybil,” she said with flashing eyes. “As for my mother, you know as well as I she possessed the kindest soul in the village. So say no more about her.”
Sybil sniffed indignantly. “Or what? What will you do, Alana? Turn me into a goat as well?”
Sister, you need no help on that score , Alana decided crossly, then was immediately ashamed of her pettiness. ’Twas not at all like her to be spiteful. But just as she would have sought to ease the mood wrought by the exchange, Sybil snatched up a tray and spun around.
A needle of hurt sliced deep. Oh, Alana told herself she shouldn’t allow her sister’s deliberate cruelty to bother her so. Countless times she had seen Rowena treat her mother with the very same callousness. And so it was that she was not surprised when Sybil pointedly ignored her throughout the evening.
Again Alana made innumerable trips between the kitchens and the hall, bearing great platters of food and pitchers of ale. The crowd was only slightly less boisterous than the previous eve. More than once she found herself the object of whispers and guarded glances. At least now, no one dared pinch her breasts and grasp at her buttocks as they had done last eve.
But then there was Merrick. Sybil served him, thank the Lord. Yet time and again, she felt his piercing regard. His gaze drilled into her back like the points of a hundred tiny daggers. His promise rang in her ears. Make no mistake, Saxon, I will deal with you later . The very thought made her belly tighten in dread. She’d heard tales of the Normans and their vicious nature. Indeed, she’d seen it firsthand in the village.
At the very least, he would have her thrashed. Or perhaps he would do it himself. He might even cut out her tongue…She dared not think of what form his punishment might take.
But whatever it was, she was certain he wouldn’t allow her to go unscathed, as he had last night.
It was very late when a scraggly line of Saxons entered the hall. Alana’s heart went out to them, for she sensed their weariness both in body and spirit. But there was one in particular…His clothing was tattered and blood-spattered. Chains fettered his feet and hands. Awareness sharpened her vision.
The man was Radburn, stoutest and bravest of her father’s men-at-arms. Of noble upbringing, his father was an earl in the south of England.
Relief flooded her, for it had saddened her greatly to think that he, too, had been killed by the Normans. A poignant memory sent her spinning back in time, for she had grown to womanhood with girlish dreams of a husband and babies…Aye, dreams of this very man had filled her mind—and her heart.
He was so tall. So strong. So brave. Deep within her, Alana had known how very foolish were such fanciful notions. Yet still she had worshiped Radburn from afar. He was ever kind and ever considerate in those brief moments when they chanced to meet. And once— once —she had caught
Similar Books
